Hidden in the Everglades

“Why do you say that?” Kyra asked as the sound of rushed footsteps resonated down the corridor.

A second later Michael appeared, his eyes huge, fear carving deep lines into his face. “She’s not in there.” He brought forward a bloody T-shirt. “But this was on the floor.” His hand quavered as he thrust it toward Gabe.

“This is Amy’s?” Gabe asked, making no move to take the article of clothing.

“Yes. She was wearing it yesterday.”

Kyra headed toward the kitchen but paused in the entrance. “And this morning when you saw her?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t see what she had on. All I saw was a glimpse of her before Wilson called me.”

“Where’s a paper sack?” Kyra had known the Hunt family for years, and although she and Ginny didn’t see each other in person much anymore, they did keep in touch by phone and email occasionally. Now she knew why she’d told Michael she would help—because of the years of friendship.

“In the top of the pantry. Why?” Michael clamped the edge of the T-shirt between his thumb and forefinger.

While she rummaged around in the pantry, Kyra heard Gabe explain about putting the shirt in the sack as evidence. When she found what she was looking for behind some pans, she returned to the living room. His forehead furrowed, Michael dropped the piece of clothing into the evidence bag.

“I need to take a look at the house. Is that okay?” Gabe asked, taking the sack.

Confusion clouding his eyes, Michael glanced from Gabe to Kyra. She gave him a nod, and he said, “Yes.”

“Kyra, do you want to help?” Gabe crossed toward the hallway. “I could always use an extra pair of eyes. In fact, I could hire you as a consultant so you could work this case. I could use your expertise as a homicide detective. Besides, you’ve seen more murders than me, and one of my officers is on vacation.”

“How about the sheriff and his deputies or the state police?”

“I’ll put a call in for some help, but I don’t know how much I’ll get until next week. They’re gonna be busy on St. Cloud Island. A big symposium on terrorism is being held there soon with some world leaders attending. I think something else is happening on Marco Island. Some big conference with the governor.”

She couldn’t turn down Gabe’s request when he was the reason she’d become a police officer in the first place. “Sure, if you need me, I’ll help but you don’t have to hire me as a consultant. I’ll poke around and see what I can come up with.” She twisted toward Michael, wanting to erase the worry from his face. “I didn’t see a gun on the floor by the body, and I didn’t see Amy with one. I think the only one who had a gun was the assailant.”

He peered at her as though she were speaking a foreign language.

“Preston and the other guy were shot. So where’s her gun if she shot them?” Kyra asked.

Michael’s eyes brightened. “Yeah. But why did she run away?”

“She was scared. People often react without thinking. Do you know any reason why she would go to the Pattersons’ house?”

He shook his head, the light dimming again in his eyes.

She closed the space between them. “I told Gabe I would help, and I will.”

“My most immediate concern is finding Amy. If the man shot at her, then he may be after her.”

She couldn’t dispute that—it was a very real possibility. “He fled into the swamp.”

“She loves the swamp. What if he was going after her?”

His every word held such alarm that Kyra was drawn again to comfort Michael. She touched his arm, his bicep bunching beneath her fingertips. “The sequence of events doesn’t support that. You were seeing her in this house while I was going after the killer.”

“Then where did she go?”

“Good question. We need to find her.” As Gabe disappeared down the hallway, Kyra inhaled deeply, smelling Michael’s scent—musk and antiseptic. “While we’re looking around, try calling her first then start calling her friends, if she doesn’t answer her cell. See if she’s with one of them or they know where she would go.”

“I can do that.” He dug into his pocket and withdrew his cell. “I also need to call my partner to tell him to cover for me for the next few days.”

Kyra left him making the first call. She seriously doubted Amy was over at a friend’s, but it gave Michael something to do while they searched the house. The person she’d seen running from the murder scene was frightened. What had Amy witnessed? What did Michael’s sister know that caused the assailant to shoot at her? Could Amy ID the killer?

When she entered the teen’s bedroom, Gabe closed a drawer. “I’m worried about Amy. If she witnessed a double homicide, the killer might not rest until he finds her.”

“I agree.” Kyra strolled toward a pegboard with photos pinned on it. She surveyed the array. “I haven’t seen pictures of Amy since she was much younger. But this is definitely the girl I saw at the house.” She tapped her finger at a girl in a photo in the center of the board—two girls, arms slung over each other’s shoulders, huge smiles on their faces.

“That’s Amy. I know that she has been in more trouble this past year than before, but I would never figure she would be involved in a murder even as a witness.”

“Can you tell me anything about Preston? Why would someone want to kill him? Who is the other victim?” Kyra used the eraser end of a pencil to wake up Amy’s computer. Amy’s screen saver came blazing to life. A scene of a swamp—dark, eerie, with deep shadows except where a sunray burst through the thick foliage to light the murky water.

“Preston is—was a bit on the wild side. I’ve seen Amy and him together around town. I’m not sure who the other guy is. He must be passing through. Wilson is working on that.”

“Could he have been involved in drugs?”

“Possibly. You think this is drug-related?”

“You know that drug dealers have used the Glades to smuggle in their poison so it’s a very real possibility.”

“Yeah, that’s what I’m afraid of. A few years back I would have said Amy would never have been caught up in something like that. Now I can’t.”

“Which means she could be in deeper trouble than just the police looking for her to question her.”

“Yup. The killer could be after her as a witness or a drug deal gone bad.”

“It won’t be the first time a murderer wants to silence a witness or a dealer wants to send a message about double-crossing him.” Noticing Amy’s internet server was still open, Kyra sat at the desk and punched some keys to bring up the girl’s email account. She clicked on the last message Amy sent. “Gabe, come look at this.” She peered over her shoulder at her mentor and glimpsed Michael standing in the doorway.

Both men approached the desk.

Michael hovered over Kyra to read, “I lost my cell at the cabin. He’s got it. Gotta get out of here. Hide. Meet me at our place.”

THREE

“He’s got her cell? Who? How?” Michael’s gut constricted. The throbbing in his head increased its tapping against his skull.

“Don’t know.” Kyra’s gaze connected with Michael’s. “Who’s this person she’s emailing called skullandcrossbones?”

“I would have said Preston, but he’s dead. I don’t know.” Why didn’t he? He’d tried to forge a bond with Amy, but—He couldn’t think straight with Kyra’s vanilla scent teasing his nostrils. When he’d been growing up, he’d fancied himself in love with Kyra, who thought of him only as Ginny’s kid brother. But what did a boy of fifteen or sixteen really know about love? He didn’t even think he had a good grasp on it now. Not after Sarah. He’d failed her when she’d needed him the most.

Gabe frowned. “Maybe that’s something I could ask her friends.”

“Let me do that. They might talk to me but not the police.” Michael remembered the short list of Amy’s girlfriends he’d called and the fact he’d gotten nowhere with them. They knew something and weren’t talking. But he had to do something to help Amy, and maybe after he pressed upon them the danger his sister was in, they would open up to him.

Indecision shadowed the police chief’s eyes.